


Misty Presence

by HoneyBadgerMole



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Love Confessions, M/M, References to Depression, Romantic Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Spoilers for The Magnus Archives Season 4, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28332966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyBadgerMole/pseuds/HoneyBadgerMole
Summary: After Jon rescued him Martin struggles to come to terms with his experiences in and before The Lonely. He needs support and Jon is just down the hall. This takes place after the events of episode 159 and before 160 (so spoilers up until then).
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 61





	Misty Presence

**Author's Note:**

> CW: While depression is never directly mentioned I based The Lonely off of my own personal experiences with depression. If this is painful for you feel free to skip this fic. Just remember both with actual depression and this fic there is a happy ending you just have to deal with the bad before you can get to the good.

It was a beautiful day driving through the Scottish highlands. Green grass and rolling hills dotted with grey boulders stretched out for miles in every direction with the only interruption being the occasional building or sheep in the distance and the road stretched out in front of them. It was beautiful, Martin recognized that, but the grey mist brought back so many bad memories.

They were in Northern Scotland, he wasn't stupid, he knew it'd be foggy but ever since The Lonely…

An involuntary shiver left him and he tried to calm his nerves giving a deep breath which only fogged the window. He had been gazing absentmindedly out, watching the scenery go by in a blur. It was a lot, today had been a lot. Martin's memory of everything after The Lonely was hazy just rushing through the institute in ruins, Jon asking him if there was anything specific he would need from his home and then just being in the car.

His memory of The Lonely wouldn't leave him. Oddly, an image of a clay tablet with cuneiform came to his mind as he thought about how those thoughts, those feelings, those painful moments that felt like years would be etched deep into his mind for eternity. He hadn't had time to process what the hell had happened.

Being made out of fog should have felt wrong or out of place but it didn't. For so long he'd felt like a ghost puppeting his own body around, feigning life. There were smiles and conversations but he wasn't there, not really. He would think about his heart and lungs operating, circling blood throughout his body, it kept him alive, but that's all being 'alive' felt like. Just organs and muscles with a consciousness just being dragged along. Sometimes that wasn't even true. 

Those first couple weeks of Jon in the hospital he sometimes lost the ability to move. One morning his mother had yelled at him because of his alarm. Martin didn't bother trying to explain why he couldn't reach out and turn it off. She wouldn't understand what it was like for his body to just refuse to respond. All he had to do was roll over and touch it. It was on his nightstand. He sent mental commands but his limbs did nothing. Maybe he didn't have the willpower to move. Maybe the signals from his brain were so weak they didn't even reach the rest of his body. Maybe laying there listening to the alarm was what he deserved for letting Jon die. Apparently his alarm automatically turned off after an hour because that's how long he lay still. He wasn't paralyzed he was limp like his body itself was losing the will to live. It just happened sometimes and got worse after his mum's funeral. He had learned to live, no, exist with it. 

He shifted the position of his head resting on his arms as he gazed out the car window there was a wetness. Had he been crying? Probably. Martin seemed to do that a lot. Just sit and think and reflect on painful memories and tears would leak out. Was this what processing trauma looked like?

"Martin?" He turned to see Jon looking at him with concern in his eyes. His hand was outstretched as though he had wanted to touch Martin's shoulder but at the last moment faltered.

"Yeah, Jon?" 

"We're here." His head nodded towards the somewhat sad looking house.

Martin hadn't even noticed the car reach a stop nor the sky's transition to evening. They were at, where did Jon say? One of Daisy's safe houses.

"Do you want to come with me and have a look at it?"

"Sure."

They trudged up the driveway as Jon produced a key. The way the mist curled around his legs as they walked like it was embracing him made Martin shiver even though the temperature didn't quite warrant it. He walked closer to Jon, more than he normally might. Why did he feel embarrassed? Jon had hugged him in a tight embrace on the beaches of The Lonely and threaded his fingers through his, holding his hand, gently guiding him back to the real world. The way he had touched his forehead to Martin's cupping his cheek had felt reassuring and communicated the silent understanding of his reciprocated feelings. Yet he still felt odd with his shoulder grazing the other man's. Jon didn't even seem to notice but Martin hadn't had any real physical contact with another human for months now. This was probably just the readjustment period. 

The lock clicked and the door swung open, revealing a sparsely furnished living room. Walking through the rest of the house revealed the same. No decorations on the walls and only the bare minimum needed to make it a room. There were two bedrooms, a bathroom, a small living room, and an even smaller kitchen. Jon walked around and looked in all the cabinets but Martin wasn't really watching. He stood in the hall with his thoughts and memories swirling and cascading like the fog outside.

"I'll unload the boot if you want to lie down." Jon gestured vaguely at a bedroom door.

"Sure." Normally he would offer to help but there was no normal. Nothing about what had happened within the last 24 hours, hell the last couple of years had been 'normal'.

Martin was tired. God, he was so tired. He didn't bother doing more than kicking off his shoes before laying in the surprisingly comfortable bed, but sleep didn't take him. He tried to close his eyes and drift off, but he couldn't. His mind kept producing images of the foggy existence. 

Martin had drifted around in The Lonely for so long, seeing nothing but the infinite expanse of grey beach. As he moved, he knew with perfect certainty that he would stay there, permanently aware of the fact there was no other life he would ever encounter. No one in the world would ever love or know him. No one in the world would ever hate or leave him. He truly was perfectly and completely alone. He was so numb nothing felt real, but with this numbness came the absence of pain. He would never be happy again, ever. But that didn't matter; he didn't really deserve happiness anyway. He would just be quietly sad and scared for the rest of time and it didn't even matter.

It was in this state of numbness Jon had first found him. His hand had passed through Martin as he reached out calling his name. His voice sounded like a whisper from a long distance away being carried along the wind, barely audible. Fog swirled around Jon's head blurring his face. What was he saying? Had he been calling Martin's name? Probably not.

"Jon." He was there. Deep down Martin knew he should be excited at Jon's presence, but he didn't remember why.

Jon's voice was again muffled as the same fog tumbled out of his mouth, stifling his words as he spoke. "I-I'm here. I came for you."

"Why?" It seemed like quite a bit of effort for such a useless result.

"I thought you might be lost."

A thought occurred to him. Why would Jon be here? There was no point. Jon had hated him since the first day they met. 

'Shut up, Martin.'

'Leave it, Martin.'

'Useless ass.'

'Stupid.'

He wouldn't come for Martin. Maybe The Lonely was trying to torture him. Seemed likely enough. "Are you real?"

"Yes! I-I am. Come on, we've got to get out of here."

Maybe Jon was real. Did that make it worse or better? Either way, Jon was wrong. "No, I don't think so."

"Why?"

The answer came to him easily. "This is where I should be. It feels right." The Lonely didn't really change much. He was already isolated. Walking with the knowledge that he could live or die and not one person in the world would shed a tear or even remember his face. His nonexistence would be for the best; he couldn't hurt or be hurt by anyone.

"Martin, don't say that."

"Nothing hurts here. It's just quiet. Even the fear is gentle here." The fog in his mind that blocked out all happiness and love also shielded him from fear, mostly.

"This isn't right. This isn't you."

"It is though." A thought occurred to him. At one point he would have been so overjoyed for Jon to be this close to him, to be saying kind things for once but now, nothing. It was funny. "I really loved you, you know?"

Jon started speaking again but Martin knew whatever he said wouldn't matter. He couldn't be saved. He couldn't be fixed. So he left. Dissipating into fog and letting the winds take him where they may. It was nice not having anyone who cared about him. He could just go where he pleased with no consequences.

So he drifted, maybe for minutes, maybe for hours maybe for days. If one's emotions never change, time ceases to have meaning. Just waiting for emotions that would never come. It was nice in a painful way. He'd said he was fine for so long, he would never have known if his own state of being matched its definition.

An odd feeling ran through him and he became more solid. Stopping his ceaseless drifting. So he sat staring out at the waves on the beach. Waiting for nothing.

Then there was the sound of sand crunching under footsteps behind him. "Martin. He's gone, Martin. He-he's gone." Jon's voice was slightly less muffled but he didn't bother turning around.

With the most passing of interest Martin realised this new feeling must have meant Peter Lucas's death. "His only wish was to die alone." He remarked.

"Tough. Now listen to me Martin. Listen."

Jon moved beside him, kneeling. He didn't turn to look at Jon. What was the point? His face would just be obscured by fog and it was easier that way. No contact, no feelings. "Hello, Jon." He didn't know why he greeted him. Just force of habit he supposed.

"Listen, I know you think you want to be here, I know you think it’s safer, and well – well, maybe it is. But we need you." Jon paused and even though he couldn't see his face, Martin knew Jon was making the same expression he had when he first told Martin he was scared. "I need you."

"No, you don’t. Not really. Everyone’s alone, but we all survive-"

"I don't just want to survive." Jon cut him off.

"I'm sorry." He was completely sincere in his response. Desiring more than just the bare minimum required to function was a path to heartbreak. Martin had spent so long wanting to live in happiness, have a healthy relationship with his mother, be honest with Jon, and have his friends back at the institute. Those just got him hurt and those he cared for killed. No, it was better here.

"Martin." Jon moved in front of him, blocking his view of the sea. His face wasn't in focus though so he kept staring out into nothing. Jon put a hand out and rested it on what Martin presumed was his face but he didn't feel it. "Martin, look at me. Look at me and tell me what you see." Suddenly Jon's voice wasn't distant and echoing. He heard Jon in front of him.

"I see…" but as he spoke his vision focused and the mist surrounding Jon's face evaporated into nothing. He was looking into Jon's eyes. The hazel with gold and green flecks always made him catch his breath. "I see you, Jon." He couldn't help but laugh with the shock of happiness he felt looking into those loving eyes. "I see you."

As he said this he became corporeal again and felt the warmth of Jon's hand on his face. The weight of everything that had happened came crashing on top of him all at once. All he could do was reach his arms around Jon desperate for support.

"Oh, Martin." Jon wrapped his arms around Martin's shaking shoulders and stroked his hair as he began to cry. 

Laying in that bed he did not focus on the relief of Jon's presence but at the horror of his absence. All his mind did was replay the agony of his numbness over and over in his head. It was hard to fully conceptualize the way The Lonely made him feel. It was like the feeling one gets when a fan or some background noise suddenly stops, and while one hadn't noticed the sound, now the silence was made even more poignant. The absence of other people always felt like that when he was in The Lonely. 

Trying to diminish those memories only let other equally painful ideas and thoughts come in. Maybe Jon had just said and done what he needed to to get Martin out of The Lonely. Maybe out of selfishness, Martin was just completely lying to himself and willfully interpreting the platonic as romantic. The Lonely worked so well at torture because it let Martin's brain do all the work; this wasn't profound, just a factual statement.

He'd been tossing and turning, stuck with his own worst enemy for how long now? It had to have been over an hour, maybe, two, at this point. He shouldn't need Jon. He shouldn't bother or burden him but, right now, he needed someone. There was no one else in the world who he wanted more than Jon.

He rolled out of bed, almost surprised his body reacted the way it was supposed to. Walking out into the hall he saw the night sky out of one of the windows, the stars distant pieces of light disrupting the still darkness of the clear night sky. All the lights seemed to be off but a small amount tricked under the bottom of the other bedroom's door. His hand hesitated before gently knocking. If Jon didn't respond, he would just go back to bed. The thought of sparing himself some embarrassment was interrupted by Jon's voice.

"Come in."

He turned the doorknob and walked into the other bedroom lit only by a lamp on the bedside table. Jon was sitting in the bed with a blanket covering his lower half. He was in an oversized, comfy looking t-shirt gazing up from a book at Martin.

"Hey," Martin paused awkwardly. "I-uh."

Jon took in Martin and simply moved and patted the bed beside him.

He walked over and sat next to Jon, body tense, unsure of what to do or say.

"Having trouble sleeping?"

"Yeah, it's just, everytime I close my eyes I'm back in The Lonely. You know that feeling where you're going to sleep but then it feels like you're falling."

"Hypnagogic hallucinations. Yes."

"That's what being forced into The Lonely felt like, but I kept falling and when I hit something, I just became nothing. Now I can't get it out of my mind. What if I try to sleep and I fall back in?"

"If you fall back in, I'll get you out." Jon paused, thinking for a second then gave a small laugh. "It'd give me another excuse to hold your hand."

Martin blushed but the words made him smile.

"You're welcome to stay, um," Jon seemed to start also getting self conscious. He vaguely gestured at where Martin was sitting. "You're welcome to stay here with me for as long as you want," he looked down and a small strand of grey hair fell into his face, "If you want me to keep you company."

Something about the way he said that last part made Martin's heart hurt, as though on some level Jon wouldn't begrudge Martin for leaving him and thought it only polite to give the excuse to go now. He fidgeted with his fingers looking down. "Thanks. That- that means a lot."

A tan, scarred hand reached out seeming to hesitate for a second before placing itself on top his. Martin opened up his hand, silently offering it to Jon. Jon brought Martin's larger, pale, freckled hand to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles. "Of course." He whispered sweetly, giving Martin a small smile.

Something in the way Jon looked at Martin made him feel better. Jon didn't let go of his hand he just moved closer and rested his head on Martin's shoulder, continuing his reading. Martin was somewhat taken aback. He decided on doing what he had wanted to for so long and let himself reciprocate Jon's affection. He rested his head on top of Jon's and they sat in comfortable silence for a long while.

Jon's hair was soft against his cheek. When he had first met Jon, most of his hair was a rich chocolate brown with only a few strands of grey being noticable. Now, however, most of his hair was grey. Martin didn't care though; frankly he was surprised after everything that had happened he hadn't gone grey too. 

Warmth radiated off of Jon, providing a stark contrast with the cold beach. He put Martin at ease, so he sat there drinking in the feeling of Jon being with him. There were so many reasons why he loved Jon, but at this moment he relished the feeling of safety that came with Jon's presence above all else. Despite his insecurity he knew that Jon would protect him. Martin could take care of himself but it was nice knowing that there was someone he could rely on. 

Eventually, Jon closed his book letting go of Martin's hand. "I'm getting some sleep." He said as he switched the light off, laying down under the covers.

The release of his hand scared him. He was so afraid that the warmth and safety that came with it would leave and never come back. Now he just sat perched. "Um, do you want me to go… or?"

Jon rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows. "If you want to, you can go." He gestured to the closed door then paused. "But, I'd like it if you stayed."

Not sure what to think, he sat for a second trying to comprehend the fact Jon had invited him to stay in his bed. Then he awkwardly situated himself under the covers feeling self conscious about his body, worrying he was taking up too much space. He rolled on his side facing Jon. 

Something about the dark and the quiet and the subtle intimacy of this situation made him feel like he could speak more freely. "Jon?"

"Yes?"

"You know I do-" he breathed, trying to prepare himself. Here goes nothing. "You know I do still love you right? In The Lonely, I made it sound like it was only in the past but- but I still have feelings for you. Like, romantic feelings."

"Yes, I know." Jon sounded calm, relaxed even. It was too dark to tell but Martin thought Jon might be smiling 

"Right, because of the eye thing. Sorry stupid question." He supposed the darkness was a good thing as it hid his growing embarrassment.

"No. I know because the way you look at me is the same way I look at you."

Their heads rested on their pillows and they lay in silence facing each other. Martin slowly digested Jon's words. He'd been convinced he was unlovable for so long. He was pretty positive Jon felt the same way after The Lonely, but hearing it said aloud in words was different.

He let out a sigh. "I love you, Martin."

"I-I love you too Jon."

"Though, Martin, if you wish to pursue anything with me I have a secret to tell you. No one can ever know, it'll ruin me." His voice was suddenly conspiratorial.

"What is it?" Was it something to do with Elias? What did that have to do with the current moment?

"I-" he gave a dramatic breath seemingly preparing to make a confession "I really, really like cuddles."

Martin couldn't help but smile and give a small laugh.

"I could lose my reputation in academia if this information gets out. This is serious Martin." But Jon too started to crack up.

He couldn't help but laugh with Jon. This sweet little absurdity among the chaos was nice.

"Jonathan Sims telling an honest to God joke. I have officially seen everything." 

"That's not true. I assure there is more to see."

"Yeah Jon I'm sure that's tru-" but he was cut off by a yawn.

"Probably be best getting some sleep."

"Yeah, probably. Though, I must also inform you, I too, enjoy cuddles." He lifted up the blanket with his arm showing Jon there was a place for him should he wish to move closer.

Apparently he did as he shifted closer to Martin until he was curled up pressed against him, gently nuzzling his head against Martin's chest. Martin wrapped his free arm around Jon, holding him close. He let out a content sigh.

Jon moved his head looking up at him. "Is this alright?"

"Yeah." 

His eyes had adjusted to the darkness at this point. Maybe he was imagining it, but Jon's eyes seemed to glow ever so slightly green. He paid it no mind as he looked into Jon's eyes, silently communicating more than words ever could. Martin gently placed a kiss on Jon's forehead and it was quiet.

Jon grounded him. He kept Martin in the moment. It was so much easier dismissing the bad when the good was right there embracing him. It had been so, so long since he had felt this way. But being loved was nice. He and Jon held each other until both drifted into unconsciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if I'll have the time or brain cells to follow up with more chapters but that is a possibility. If I have any British or Scottish readers feel free to comment if I messed something up. I am a dumb American and I apologize.
> 
> The Magnus Archives just kinda did a time time skip so I wanted to go a little more in depth into how traumatic Martin's experience in The Lonely would have been and what the fallout from that would have been like.
> 
> I love Rusty Quill go checkout their other stuff if you like TMA. 
> 
> Hope y'all liked this. Just know I read and appreciate every comment (I'm just to shy to respond most of the time). Thanks for reading.


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